


Pour Out Your Heart

by Nununununu



Category: His Dark Materials (TV)
Genre: Caretaking, Developing Relationship, Don't copy to another site, Drunkenness, Feelings, Flirting, M/M, No aeronauts harmed their heads in the making of this fic, Singing, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:26:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23271694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: The sunset's not all Lee ends up serenading.
Relationships: Iorek Byrnison/Lee Scoresby
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24
Collections: All The Nice Things Flash Exchange 2020





	Pour Out Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DoreyG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/gifts).



> Title adapted from ['Tennessee Whiskey'](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7Cq3STOBcA) by Chris Stapleton, which is the song Lee's singing in the fic (one line quoted).

Alcohol’s spreading warmth through his body as Lee sprawls back amongst the tangle of his fur blankets, one boot kicked off and his hat long gone, raising his voice to serenade the sunset as he waves his whiskey bottle in time.

“Come on, Hester!” He attempts to push himself up into a sitting position to beckon for his daemon to join him, only to lose his balance and all but flop over onto his face, spluttering with laughter as he does.

“You’re damned drunk, Lee,” Hester sniffs at him from the railing she’s perching on, looking at the clouds painted like they’re on fire.

“Aw, how’d you guess?” Given he’s already part rolled onto his knees, it seems eminently sensible to stumble on upwards to his feet, steadying himself with a hand against some fairly critical mechanisms he accidentally half-flattens when he staggers, “ _Crikey_. Lucky we’re not – not flying right now –”

“You don’t say,” Hester bounds over to prod the controls back towards something like the shape they should be.

“I’ll put them to rights tomorrow,” Getting his legs untangled from the blankets seeking to follow him helps lessen the impression that the gondola’s rocking beneath him despite being on solid ground. Grinning, Lee launches back into the song as he seeks to hop up onto the railing his daemon’s just vacated – or tries to, managing instead to scrabble up on around the third try.

“You’re going to introduce your head to the ground if you keep this up,” Hester complains, for all she hums along for a few bars before accompanying him in singing the chorus as Lee huffs and puffs and slides down to the tundra outside in a far less graceful descent than usual.

Iorek’s sitting on his haunches not at all far off, his head cocked inquisitively, quite obviously having witnessed the performance.

“Iorek!” Joy at seeing him banishes any embarrassment Lee might have felt, “We weren’t expecting you until the morning!” He raises the bottle in a jaunty salute.

Iorek inclines his head in concession of the point, “I was able to conclude my business early and thus returned.”

There’s a rumble of what Lee’s dead certain is amusement in that deep voice. He squints at the polar bear, “Your armour – armour’s looking fine.”

“It’s looking the same as always, Lee,” Hester leaps primly down beside him before abandoning him for Iorek, “Which is not to say it isn’t impressive.” Coming to a pause before the great bear, she casts a hopeful look up at their panserbjørn friend, her ears going up in entreaty, “Iorek. In truth, you’ve come just in time. I’ve been playing guardian to this here idiot, but he’s drunk enough my head’s near spinning and all these grasses are starting to look awful good for running about on as far as I can get without dragging him along. Would you mind checking he doesn’t crack his thick skull for me please?”

“Such harsh words,” Lee’s clasping his free hand to his chest before Iorek can reply.

“They’re only accurate,” Hester shoots back, before her voice descends to a knowing mutter, “Besides, you ought to thank me for giving the two of you the excuse.”

“I am certain I have no idea what that could possibly mean,” Lee strives to earnestly assure Iorek, appallingly distracted by the fact the panserbjørn bows his head first to pull off his helmet and then to touch that nose of his against Lee’s daemon’s much smaller one –

Along with the certainty that Lee absolutely does know, of course, a warmth of an entirely different kind to that of the whiskey trickling into his veins.

“I will ensure that the pair of you come to no harm,” With this solemn vow, Iorek mouths briefly at the top of Hester’s small head, making her exclaim in pleased surprise. Lee’s feet go out from under him with no excuse at all this time, except for the fact he felt that touch shoot right through him into his bones.

“C-cripes,” He’s laughing again helplessly when Iorek paces forwards to tuck his muzzle into Lee’s shoulder and help hoist him up, as Hester takes a jubilant leap into her grass.

“I believe you would be best off your feet,” That rumble of amusement is even more wonderful to hear up close, “To bed with you, Lee.”

“Now that’s a grand idea,” Never mind that he’s just got out of the gondola and Lee has no idea where his bottle has apparently gone – Iorek is all warm breath and soft fur and glorious solid strength against him, steadier by far than Lee’s legs or, as it currently seems to him, the ground.

Not that far away Hester’s jumping and running around in the way she does when he’s knocked back a fair few tipples, and Iorek is –

Lee launches back into his song, “ _Sweeeet as strawberry wine_.”

“I am confident that is not what you have been drinking,” Laughter rings out audibly in Iorek’s voice as he nudges Lee into turning back towards the gondola, mouth hot for a moment behind the man’s ear in an unexpected nuzzle that rockets right through Lee and makes him gasp. Fondness similarly colours the panserbjørn’s tone, “However the description does seem accurate when it comes to yourself.”

“ _I-Iorek_ ,” Set on next comparing his friend to a damn fine glass of brandy, the words dry up in Lee’s throat at the compliment, and then even further when he glances over his shoulder and catches the look Iorek’s giving him.

“If you weren’t drunk, Lee –” That’s heat there, that is, in those dark irises, clear as anything. Seeing it makes Lee shiver all over with want, abruptly feeling far less tipsy, like arousal burns a fair amount of the alcohol out of his system right there and then.

This might not be what actually happens, of course, but he’s most definitely self-aware enough to know full well what Iorek’s implicating and that he absolutely, yes sir, one hundred percent consents.

“You know, I’m not _nearly_ pickled enough to just nod off snoring when you’ve tucked me in bed,” Catching Hester’s eye next from where she’s left off her grass-related adventures in order to gaze at them intently, Lee swivels himself back around so he’s facing Iorek and can stroke eager fingers down along the side of his friend’s jaw.

“I am getting that impression, yes,” Iorek tilts his head to investigate Lee’s hand. While he’s breathing a little heavier than usual, there’s no haste to him whatsoever as he noses his way up to Lee’s wrist to lick at his pulse point.

“Iorek -” Lee has to bite down hard on his lip.

“I vowed to stand watch over you,” Rumbling, Iorek takes another step forwards, backing Lee quite neatly against the side of the gondola, “Allowing you to climb over this would seem foolhardy as such.”

“Now I’m sure that’s –” Lee starts to automatically protest, given he’d just crack his head on a crate on his way back in if he tumbled rather than less forgiving earth or rock – not that he can imagine his friend would ever let it come to that.

“As such, is it possible that you might be comfortable if I were to share my warmth with you here on the ground?” Iorek proposes with a polite nod to Lee’s daemon, “I would not take Hester away from her enjoyment.”

“It’s not like this one here ever worries about that,” Abandoning her grass for the moment, Hester hops over give a teasing kick to Lee’s ankle, addressing him next, “You’re going to say ‘yes’, right?”

Lee’s got the feeling he’s not going to be in for the rough-and-ready desperation-soaked go at each other a spark in his belly had been hankering for. The care Iorek takes when he leans in to lap at the crook of Lee’s jaw indicates any goings on will be far slower and tenderer than that.

For all he would far from say ‘no’ to a good roughing-up of a particularly delightful kind, the thought of instead taking their time over it, of Iorek warming him up and the pair of them drawing things out –

Maybe taking _hours_ when it came down to it, maybe slow enough Lee really would get sleepy while Iorek would gently and steadily thrust and thrust and thrust; rocking back lazily against him, taking pleasure and giving it right back –

The thought of just stroking his friend’s fur, of leisurely revelling in the closeness, of letting his hands and body and mouth inform Iorek of all the affection Lee has for him in his heart –

“Dang right I’m going to say that,” Lee informs the both of them even as he leans in to drop a kiss upon that adorable nose, “ _Iorek_. You’ve got all the ‘yeses’ in the whole round world to each and every thing you ever want from me.”


End file.
